Read Online Homefall: Book Four of the Last Legion Series by Chris Bunch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Bunch
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holo recorder, were midgets.
One woman, distinguished-looking, very long-haired, wearing tanned, fringed leathers, came forward.
“We welcome
Big Bertha
,” she said formally. “I hope you will find what you’re seeking here on Grimaldi. I am Agar-Robertes, and people have given me the title of Gaffer, one of several on this world. That’s an ancient term that means — ”
“I know what it means,” Garvin said. “I’m Gaffer Jaansma.”
The woman lifted her eyebrows.
“Of
the
Jaansmas?”
“I am Garvin,” Garvin said. “My mother was Clyte, my father Frahnk, my uncle Hahrl. Before that — ”
“Stop,” the woman said. “You’ve been kicking sawdust longer than any of us.”
Garvin inclined his head.
“Son of a bitch,” Njangu managed sotto voce to Dill. “The bastard’s for real about this circus stuff!”
“That is quite a ship you own,” Agar-Robertes said looking up at the looming behemoth. “Might I ask your cargo?”
“We have little at present,” Garvin said. “Which is why we came to Grimaldi. We intend to build a circus, and seek women, men, nonhumans, animals.”
“Then the time has come round again,” Agar-Robertes said reverently amid a babble from the other men and women of Grimaldi. “When it is safe for circuses, it is safe for all.”
Garvin made a face.
“I wish I could say you’re right. We’ve had encounters since we left our native worlds to suggest the time is not here, not yet.”
“Still,” Agar-Robertes said. “It might be a beginning.
“And you won’t lack for prospective troupers. We’re so stricken we’ve gone beyond entertaining each other.” She lowered her voice. “Some of us have even been forced to take flatty
jobs
!”
• • •
The people of Grimaldi took the Cumbrians to their hearts and homes. The
Big Bertha
was given a parking slot on a corner of the field, the
aksai
and other ships moved into revetments for maintenance, and the circus itself sprawled out around the ship.
The tent was set up, the midway a long fat finger in front of the main tent, and the other “tents” — the mess tent, the clown tent, all actually prefab shelters — around it.
Some of the crew and troupers decided they could do without living aboard unless they had to, and made arrangements with the locals. Garvin didn’t care, as long as everyone was present for his work shift.
It would also be good, he knew, for the Cumbrians to experience another culture than the one they’d been born into … and the Grimaldians were a bit unusual.
Some of the population, including the original settlers, were circus workers, as many of them strong-backs, clerical, or computer sorts as freaks and performers. Others were retirees, vacationers who’d been trapped when the Confederation collapsed, circus fans or settlers who seemed to have chosen Grimaldi with a dart and a star chart.
All shared a common belief in individual freedom, although, as one put it, “Yer rights end at my nose.”
Seemingly incongruously, almost all desperately missed the Confederation. But one explained to Njangu, “It’s best to have some kind of law and order. Makes travel easier, and keeps you from getting mugged after you’ve run your con and are trying to get out of town with the snide.”
Njangu was starting to understand what Garvin had missed for so many years … but still hadn’t the foggiest why Jaansma was still with the military.
Nor why he was, either.
• • •
“What in the name of God’s holiest dildo is
that
?” Njangu asked suspiciously, staring at the huge pile of off-white heavy cloth, leather reinforcements, iron eyes, and heavy line.
“It’s a tent,” Garvin said. “A real tent.”
“Which you use for what?”
“We’re going to be the best damned circus ever … or, anyway, the best one still flitting around this galaxy,” Garvin said. “So, when we can, we’ll set up under canvas.”
“Why? We’ve got a perfectly good ship that
One woman, distinguished-looking, very long-haired, wearing tanned, fringed leathers, came forward.
“We welcome
Big Bertha
,” she said formally. “I hope you will find what you’re seeking here on Grimaldi. I am Agar-Robertes, and people have given me the title of Gaffer, one of several on this world. That’s an ancient term that means — ”
“I know what it means,” Garvin said. “I’m Gaffer Jaansma.”
The woman lifted her eyebrows.
“Of
the
Jaansmas?”
“I am Garvin,” Garvin said. “My mother was Clyte, my father Frahnk, my uncle Hahrl. Before that — ”
“Stop,” the woman said. “You’ve been kicking sawdust longer than any of us.”
Garvin inclined his head.
“Son of a bitch,” Njangu managed sotto voce to Dill. “The bastard’s for real about this circus stuff!”
“That is quite a ship you own,” Agar-Robertes said looking up at the looming behemoth. “Might I ask your cargo?”
“We have little at present,” Garvin said. “Which is why we came to Grimaldi. We intend to build a circus, and seek women, men, nonhumans, animals.”
“Then the time has come round again,” Agar-Robertes said reverently amid a babble from the other men and women of Grimaldi. “When it is safe for circuses, it is safe for all.”
Garvin made a face.
“I wish I could say you’re right. We’ve had encounters since we left our native worlds to suggest the time is not here, not yet.”
“Still,” Agar-Robertes said. “It might be a beginning.
“And you won’t lack for prospective troupers. We’re so stricken we’ve gone beyond entertaining each other.” She lowered her voice. “Some of us have even been forced to take flatty
jobs
!”
• • •
The people of Grimaldi took the Cumbrians to their hearts and homes. The
Big Bertha
was given a parking slot on a corner of the field, the
aksai
and other ships moved into revetments for maintenance, and the circus itself sprawled out around the ship.
The tent was set up, the midway a long fat finger in front of the main tent, and the other “tents” — the mess tent, the clown tent, all actually prefab shelters — around it.
Some of the crew and troupers decided they could do without living aboard unless they had to, and made arrangements with the locals. Garvin didn’t care, as long as everyone was present for his work shift.
It would also be good, he knew, for the Cumbrians to experience another culture than the one they’d been born into … and the Grimaldians were a bit unusual.
Some of the population, including the original settlers, were circus workers, as many of them strong-backs, clerical, or computer sorts as freaks and performers. Others were retirees, vacationers who’d been trapped when the Confederation collapsed, circus fans or settlers who seemed to have chosen Grimaldi with a dart and a star chart.
All shared a common belief in individual freedom, although, as one put it, “Yer rights end at my nose.”
Seemingly incongruously, almost all desperately missed the Confederation. But one explained to Njangu, “It’s best to have some kind of law and order. Makes travel easier, and keeps you from getting mugged after you’ve run your con and are trying to get out of town with the snide.”
Njangu was starting to understand what Garvin had missed for so many years … but still hadn’t the foggiest why Jaansma was still with the military.
Nor why he was, either.
• • •
“What in the name of God’s holiest dildo is
that
?” Njangu asked suspiciously, staring at the huge pile of off-white heavy cloth, leather reinforcements, iron eyes, and heavy line.
“It’s a tent,” Garvin said. “A real tent.”
“Which you use for what?”
“We’re going to be the best damned circus ever … or, anyway, the best one still flitting around this galaxy,” Garvin said. “So, when we can, we’ll set up under canvas.”
“Why? We’ve got a perfectly good ship that
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